I stepped off the plane, and into the dumbest nightmare imaginable.

This is Phoenix. It’s going to be somewhere around 732 degrees tomorrow. “oh, but it’s a dry heat.” Uh huh. That makes it better. That’s like saying, “but it’s the good herpes.”

Breezes out here are just depressing. When you grow up somewhere with actual seasons other than just “tollerable” and “hell” you expect a breeze to refresh you. Here, it feels like a hairdryer. One hits me and I just curl into a fetal position and cry. My tears instantly become steam and cook a passing bird.

I’m here for work.

Last year this conference was in New Orleans. It was heaven. Bars on every other corner. Cigar shops on the other ones. It was seedy and dirty and jazz was piping out of every open door. You don’t even want to know how I earned my beads. I felt like i was finally home. I swear I saw a baby with a Maker’s Mark bottle.

This year it’s in Phoenix. I think they fought that last fight scene from episode 3 here. At 3 in the afternoon lava pours from under the streets.

On a positive note, I got to hang out with my buddy Shanti and his chica Abigail. We hit some mexican place and a few margarittas and insano shots later we were sharing life stories. Outside, even though it was midnight, small children and animals were randomly combusting from the heat.

Anyway, I’m here in hell for 3 more days. If there’s anythig you want me to ask Julia Child or Yasser Arafat just let me know.

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